And You'll Be Mine
by PhoebeSnow
Summary: Molly goes to Baker Street, intending to find out why Sherlock hasn't rsvp'd to her wedding when she finds him throwing darts at a picture of her fiancé.


Molly stared at the unopened invitation in confusion. It had been addressed to 221B Baker Street and there was nothing wrong with the postage. So, why hadn't Sherlock opened it?

Doubts began to cross her mind. What if this was his subtle way of saying that he didn't want to come to her wedding? If so, why would he feel like that? They were were good friends and Molly knew Sherlock cared about her, despite how aloof he could be at times. It made no sense.

"Maybe it was an accident, but I don't want to sit here and worry about it. I'll just go to his place and ask him what's going on." With her destination firmly in mind, Molly pulled on her overcoat, shoved the invitation in her pocket and left her flat.

Several minutes later, she walked through the door to Baker Street and was greeted by Mrs. Hudson.

"Hello, Molly, dear. Have you come to see Sherlock?"

"Yes. I have something important to speak to him about. Is he with a client?"

"Actually, he just finished a case an hour ago, and he's alone now. But he's been throwing something at the wall for the past ten minutes or so."

Molly frowned, knowing Sherlock's tendency to fire at the yellow smiley face he put on the wall whenever he was bored. "He's not shooting bullets, just throwing something?"

"Mmhm. It makes a strange thudding sound, too. I'm not going up there because I think he's in a fit of temper. Maybe you can bring him out of it."

Wonderful. If Sherlock were in a bad mood, that would make confronting him even more challenging. Of course, Molly didn't come all this way just to turn around and leave, but she'd have preferred him to be in a better attitude. "Well, I'll try. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Molly smiled at the older lady and began her ascent up the stairs.

The closer she got to the door, the louder the thudding sound became. Whatever he was doing, it was certainly annoying. Molly knocked on the wood to let him know that she was present. "Sherlock?"

"Molly?" Shortly after his reply, there was a shuffling sound, followed by rushing footsteps and something else she couldn't recognize.

She pushed the door open and saw him pulling darts off a dartboard that was set up on the wall. A surprised smile spread across her face and she came closer. "I didn't know you liked darts. Mrs. Hudson will be glad to know that you're not destroying her walls."

"I gave up shooting at the wall and switched to darts for her benefit." Sherlock replied, but he didn't turn around or greet her. Molly frowned at his back. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong when she realised the reason he was taking the darts off the board so quickly.

Positioned directly in the middle of aforementioned dart board was a picture of Molly's fiancé, Tom.

"What the hell is that?!"

Just then, Sherlock wrenched the picture free from the dart board and turned, crumbling it in his hand. He flashed a fake smile at her, trying to look innocent. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean! That was a picture of Tom on your dart board!"

"No it wasn't, Molly. I think you're imagining things."

"Yeah, right! I know what my fiancé looks like, Sherlock Holmes!" She tried snatching the picture out of his hands, but he was too fast for her. He moved away and headed towards the fireplace.

"It's nothing!" He dropped the paper in the flames before Molly could reach it. "You're being silly." His voice sounded a bit shaky and he walked off to his bedroom, but Molly grabbed a poker and stabbed at the paper, picking it up before it burned beyond all recognition.

Once she stamped out the flame, it was in her hands and she unravelled the picture to find, just as she believed, Tom's smiling face was on the paper. A glint of anger appeared on Molly's face and she stormed into Sherlock's room.

"You're a terrible liar, Sherlock! I know what I saw and this proves it, why were you doing, throwing darts at a picture of my fiancé?!"

Sherlock glanced at the party burnt picture in Molly's hands and gave her a look that was so full of heat that it made her step back from its intensity. "Seeing as how he's going to marry the woman I love, I think I have a right to throw darts at his face." The words came out bitterly and caused Molly to blink in surprise.

"T-the woman you love?"

"Yes, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

Flashes of their many past conversations came back to Molly. Every tender smile, every touch - as brief as they were - flew across her mind like a movie. Yes, she knew he loved her. She'd known for years, but after his "death", she decided that maybe it would be easier if she just let him go.

Ignoring the influx of emotions that threatened to take over, Molly pulled out the envelope she'd brought with her. "I just came here to ask you why you sent back this invitation."

The detective scoffed and came closer, a knowing look on his face. "Please, Molly. You're not an idiot. The signs are clearly there. I've been frequenting Bart's less these days, we haven't spent much time together in months, you sent me an invitation to your wedding and I sent it back, then, you find me throwing darts at a picture of your fiancé's face. It's not difficult to put two and two together."

Molly knew he was right, but she didn't want to admit it; she **couldn't**. She was an engaged woman now and she wasn't free. The pathologist backed up until she hit the wall and Sherlock loomed over her. The expression on his face made her heart slam against her chest and she shuddered when his leg brushed her thigh.

"So, you're jealous of me getting married?"

"Not merely jealous, Molly. I've been jealous of Tom for a long time. He's slept with you, knows what you smell like in the mornings, touched you in the places no other man has, kissed your lips and felt you kiss him back. He's had a claim on you that I could never have and I hate him for it. That is why I sent back the invitation. Because I can't stomach seeing the only woman I've loved marry a man who is completely wrong for her in every way. I won't do it, so you'll have to excuse my absence."

Sherlock's words shook Molly to her core and she felt it incredibly hard to breathe. "Why are you telling me this now?"

This time, his voice was gentle and he touched her hand, covering it with his own before holding it to his chest. "Because I know that you love me just as much as I love you. You can't marry him, not when you have feelings for me. It wouldn't be right."

Tears began to slide down Molly's cheeks and she shook her head. "So, you just expect me to break up with Tom, call off the wedding and be with you instead? I'm not a light switch, Sherlock. I can't just change at the drop of a hat."

"I know this is unfair for me to ask, but I'm still asking...because I can't lose you to him, Molly. I can't lose _you_."

The brunette closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She thought of the many special moments that she and Sherlock had shared, the way they'd gotten closer after so many years. She couldn't deny that he had warmed his way into her heart and was a part of her.

With that in mind, Molly opened her eyes and sighed. "You have the worst bloody timing of any man I've ever met, but you're right. I can't marry someone else when I feel this way, when I love you."

"Marry me instead."

"What did you say?" Molly's eyes widened and she stared at Sherlock as if he just grew a third eye.

"Marry me, Molly Hooper. You already sent the invitations out, but the wedding isn't supposed to take place for two weeks. That's ample time to let people know that you've changed your mind."

She laughed and rubbed her forehead. "Sherlock..."

"Please don't say no."

"You just confessed your love for me and now, you want to marry me. Aren't you concerned about moving too fast?"

"Not really. We've known each other for a decade now. We've lived in the same space for a time, we're used to each other's habits and idiosyncrasies, we work well together, we can talk about our work when no one else wants to listen, Toby likes me. Molly, if I believed in fate and soul mates and all of that rubbish, I assure you, we are it."

Sherlock was unequivocally right. They were meant for each other. It was a truth that resonated within her soul and kept her love for him preserved no matter how much time had passed.

"You really mean it, don't you?"

"With all my heart."

She laughed and looked up at him, her brown eyes meeting his hopeful blue ones. "Well, then. I accept your proposal, Sherlock."

Sherlock did his best not to give a triumphant shout and leap. Instead, he let go of her and went to his dresser, pulling out the drawer and searched for something.

"What are you doing?" Molly watched him curiously.

"Looking for this." He turned around and held out a small box and Molly gasped.

"Is that a ring?"

"It is. I bought it a couple of years ago when I was staying at your flat and before I went underground to dismantle Moriarty's network. I realised in those couple of weeks that I was tired of being the detective in the funny hat with no true partner by my side. Every day, I kept that ring close and promised myself that, when I came back, I would make you mine. You were the one thing that kept me going those two lonely years, Molly. You saved my life the day before I left and you gave me something I never thought I'd find."

"And what's that?"

Sherlock caressed her cheek with his hand. "A home."

Molly sobbed and pulled him closely, burying her head in his chest. "You're my home, too, Sherlock."

"I'm glad to know the feeling is mutual." He chuckled and drew back a little, so she could open the box. The ring was lovely, a beautiful yellow sapphire shaped like a rose surrounded by four tiny white diamonds on a gold band.

"Oh, Sherlock," she breathed. "You bought a yellow sapphire?"

"Yes. I know yellow is your favorite color and in the Indian culture, this particular gem represents peace, prosperity and loving relationships, among other things." He removed the gold band that was currently on her finger and placed it on top of the dresser. Then, he slid the sapphire ring on her finger. "I figured it was a good choice."

"I agree." Molly admired the ring appreciatively.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her gently and rested his forehead against hers. "You have made me very happy, Molly Hooper."

"And you have made me very happy, Sherlock Holmes." Molly stood on her tip toes to give him a soft kiss.

With a contented sigh, Sherlock pushed the door shut and led Molly to his bed. They made physical love with their bodies, but it was also something more spiritual, like their souls had joined together. That night was one they would never forget and each day afterwards would be more memorable than the last.


End file.
